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“NEATH SUNNY SOUTHERN 


SKIES.” 




TO MY HUSBAND. 







iXeath #umtu -Smithcm #kies 


BY 


CLARA M. WILLIAMSON. 


If a book be from the heart it will continue to reach 


other hearts. — Carlyle. 


Nineteen and Eight. 


Two Copies KetdiVvt: 

MAR 9 1908 

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COPYR IGHT 1908 
BY 

CLARA M. WILLIAMSON. 


* • 
* l 

»e * 


" PRESS OF 

PALFFEY-KODD-PURSELL CO., LTD 
FEW ORLEANS, LA. 


CONTENTS. 


Page 

Frontispiece, by Mrs. C. Schaeffer ... 4 

An Old-Fashioned Village 9 

After Many Years 15 

A Tempest in a Tea Pot 27 

The Magnetic Minister 35 

The Haunted House 41 

The Golden Wedding 49 

A Theatrical Trio 57 

A Woman’s Kingdom 65 

The Country Dance 71 

The Female Evangelist 77 

“Mammy” 83 

A Fool’s Paradise 89 

A Woodland Heroine 103 

Memories : — 

A Florida Outing 117 

Mission Memories 122 

The Battle of Flowers 128 

Memories of Mobile Bay 13 1 

The French Quarter 135 


* 


An Old-Fashioned Village. 


“For talking age and whispering lovers made.” 

— Goldsmith. 



JVtt (Mfc-Jfeslftcmeh Uillajje 


1 1 The breezy call of incense breathing morn, 

The swallows twittering from the straw built shed. * ’ 

— Gray. 


rfVJVORNING in Piketown, “and all the air a 
solemn stillness holds.” No sound save 
the wild birds caroling in the near-by trees, 
and all else, so intensely quiet, that one feels very 
near to the Father. 

In these progressive, modern times, how can I 
adequately describe Piketown ? An antiquated 
village, in existence fifty years, and yet in many 
ways as primitive as when it was first settled. 

Of course it has never attained to the dignity 
of a city, or any pretensions to civic improvements 
no pavements, no street lights, no telephone, no 
water works. 

In Piketown the “Old Oaken Bucket” still 
hangs in the well, for that is the source of the 
water supply and very delicious cool water it is. 

The first impression one has of Piketown is 
of “green fields and running brooks.” 

The trees are beautiful, on several of the 


— 11 — 


An Old-Fashioned Village. 


streets meeting overhead, forming an arch of liv- 
ing green, like a vast Cathedral. 

Surrounding this primitive village are the 
most magnificent woodlands, grand old trees, 
monarchs of the forest, festooned with moss and 
hoary with age. 

Wild flowers of every description carpet the 
billowy hills, and perfume the air with their fra- 
grance. On all sides can be heard the joyous 
singing of many birds. Truly this is the “forest 
primeval,” and one is “near to nature’s heart.” 

Near at hand a lovely stream (or creek — as it 
is called in the country) ripples along, on whose 
fern bordered banks the old sweet story has been 
told o’er and o’er, for it is the village picnic 
ground — a natural park. 

All the churches unite in an annual picnic in 
the month of May, but there are numerous pri- 
vate affairs, picnics, fish frys and other rural fes- 
tivals given here during the summer season. 

There is a very great rivalry in Piketown 
society. They have a Tennis Club, Literary Club 
rival Card Clubs, where the opposing factions 
are as distinctly apart as if they lived in different 
parts of the world. 

In many ways Piketown in not unlike “Cran- 
ford an “Adamless Kden,” and when 
— 12 — 


an un- 


An Old-Fashioned Village. 


married man comes to the village (which is a 
rare event) he is straightway the object of great 
solicitude. They believe in being kind to the 
stranger within their gates. 

In truth he becomes the center of attraction. 
The girls all out-vie each other in their hospital- 
ities and he is either very much flattered or very 
much bored — just as he feels about it. 

There are several old families that have resid- 
ed in the village since its earliest days and whose 
word is like the laws of the “Medes and Per- 
sians/’ and who are looked up to as the autocrats 
of the village morally, socially and intellectually. 
Their homes are located amid broad acres and 
they have all the comforts and pleasures of rural 
life. 

There are warm hearts and true in the village, 
and human sympathy unbounded, and a wedding 
or a funeral is a regular community affair, the 
entire population of the village taking an active 
part and vieing with each other in attentions 
the interested parties. 

There is that sympathy which makes the whole 
world a-kin and brings us nearer to each other. 

How many changes have taken place in the 
world, in the years that have passed, since Pike- 
town was first settled and yet so little change in 
— 13 — 


An Old-Fashioned Village. 


the village. It is a veritable “ Sleepy Hollow.” 
The greatest change is in the graveyard (as it is 
called) and it is nearly filled and is a most neg- 
lected spot. 

“A lonesome acre thinly grown, 

With grass and wandering vines. ” 

It seems as if it has been entirely forgotten by 
everyone, and although it is a most desolate spot, 
and neglected by man, yet it is still God’s acre, 

“ Where the rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep, “ 

and as such is hallowed ground. Gazing on this 
lonely spot as twilight, descends like a veil of mist, 
I think of that other “Burying Ground” which the 
Quaker Poet has immortalized with the following 
lines : 

“It knew the glow of even-tide, 

The sunrise and the noon 
And glorified and sanctified, 

It slept beneath the moon. ” 

Twilight shadows deepen into night, and the 
soft south winds blowing through the pines, mur- 
mur a requiem over those who lie at rest in this 
hallowed God’s acre. The full moon rises clear 
and bright and 

“White on the valley-slopes the splendor lies 
Touching a holy mound where pansies grow.” 
— 14 — 


After Many Years. 


1 1 True as the needle to the pole, 
Or as the dial to the sun. ” 


— Barton Booth. 



£dht ittemjT Beats 


“No simplest duty is forgot, 

Life hath no dim or lowly spot, 

That doth not in her sunshine share. “ 

— Lowell. 


'JjjT I F E seemed very real to Miss Belinda 
Brooks, who, for twenty years, had been 
the village school-mistress. When she was 
quite a young girl, she met and loved David Hol- 
ford, one of the most estimable young men in the 
village, and after awhile they became engaged. 

Not long after their engagement, Belinda dis- 
covered that her lover was an Agnostic, and of 
course, being a consistent church member, she 
tried to reason with him, but it was all of no avail, 
so she decided to give him up, and although it 
hurt her to do this, she thought it best. In a 
short while he left the village for the far West, 
which in those days was looked upon, as the 
Mecca for all ambitious youths. 

A few months after this occurred, Miss Be- 
linda’s father died suddenly, and she and her 


— 17 — 


After Many Years. 


mother were left almost destitute, save for a small 
cottage home — all was gone. 

Miss Belinda commenced teaching a small 
school in one room of her mother’s simple home. 
She was very successful in every way, and her 
school increased in numbers to such an extent 
that she soon found that she would have to secure 
lage quarters. One day the minister of the 
church which she attended, called on her and her 
mother, and encouraged by his kind manner, she 
confided her plans to him, and that was to get a 
lot and build a plain school building, large enough 
to accommodate her rapidly growing school, but 
she added, “I have no idea how I can secure the 
lot.” 

The minister seemed to be in deep thought; 
after a little while he turned to her with a bright 
smile and said, “I think I see a way of assisting 
you, but I will have to consult others, and will 
see you in a few days. You are so earnest and 
self-reliant that I think, you shoud be encouraged 
in every possible way. J> and promising to call 
soon, he departed. 

The following week Miss Belinda was sitting 
by the front window, one evening, resting after 
an unusually hard day, when she saw the minister 


— 18 — 


After Many Years. 


coming up the gravel-walk that led to the front 
door of the cottage. In a second his strong 
knock resounded on the door. Miss Belinda wel- 
comed him saying, “I will call mother.” Then 
the minister laid his plans before the astonished 
ladies. He had obtained the permission of the 
trustees of the church for Miss Belinda to build a 
school-house on a part of the church lot. Tears 
gathered in Miss Belinda’s eyes, but they were 
tears of joy, for she had never dreamed of such 
kindness. 

“Now, how are you to get the house built?” 
resumed the minister. 

“Oh, I’ll find a way,” answered Miss Belinda. 

“Well, I have still another surprise for you / 1 
said the minister. “The ‘Ladies’ Aid’ have offer- 
ed to give an entertainment for the benefit of 
your school fund, and hope to get enough money 
to build just the outside of a good sized school 
building.” 

Miss Belinda was utterly unable to express 
her thanks, so overcome was she ; but recovering 
from her surprise, she again thanked the minister 
and the ladies, and added, “I will do all I can for 
the success of the entertainment.” The minister 
explained that the school-house could be used for 


— 19 — 


After Many Years. 


church meetings, and social affairs, as well as for 
school purposes, but they woud insist on paying 
her a rental which would pay the current expenses. 

In time Miss Belinda was fully established in 
her new school-house, and it was well patronized 
by the whoe country-side. 

jj< 5|C SjS Sjc 

Morning and evening, through sunshine and 
rain, Miss Belinda could be seen wending her way 
towards her school, and always a group of happy 
chldren with her. If she ever regretted sending 
her lover into exile, no one knew it from her out- 
ward appearance, for she was always sweet and 
bright, and everyone loved her. She was indeed : 

“A perfect woman, nobly planned, 

To warn, to comfort, and command . 7 ’ 

But the heart knoweth its own bitterness, and 
often when the cares of the day were over and she 
was alone with her thoughts, the image of her 
lover would seem to arise before her, and she won- 
dered if he were living or dead, for David Hol- 
ford had never been heard of since he left the 
village. 

* * * * 5jf 

It was drawing near to Thanksgiving, and 
the ladies of the church were arranging to give a 


- 20 — 


After Many Years. 


“Donation Party” for the poor of the village. 
Of course, it was to be held in the school-house, 
and Miss Belinda had offered to assist them in 
any possible way that she could. There were to 
be charades, recitations, music and refreshments. 
The price of admission was to be twenty-five cents 
and one pound of groceries. The money was to 
be used to buy coal, and the groceries and coal 
were to be given to deserving poor ; there were a 
number of notices posted at different well-known 
places in the village, and a large crowd was ex- 
pected. 

Thanksgiving morning dawned clear and 
bright. The wind sighing through the trees was 
as balmy as spring. The sun was just rising be- 
yond the everlasting hills, when the stage coach 
came rumbling through the main street of the vil- 
lage, bringing several passengers home for the 
day of great rejoicing. 

Among the passengers was one whom nobody 
seemed to know. He was a tall, fine-looking 
man of middle age, and seemed rather reticent 
about himself. He secured board with a widow 
lady in the village, and at the dinner table every- 
one was discussing the Thanksgiving festival. 
The stranger (or Mr. David, as he styled him- 


— 21 — 


After Many Years. 


self), inquired where the festival was to be held. 

“Why, in Miss Belinda’s school-house,” an- 
swered the widow. 

Mr. David sad: “Who is Miss Belinda?” 

“Oh,” resumed the widow, “it is not difficult 
to see that you are a stranger ; why Miss Belinda 
has been the village school teacher for twenty 
years; everybody knows and loves her. I heard 
a young man speaking of her not long since, and 
he said that every time he looked at her, he 
thought of that beautiful quotation : 

“Her eyes are homes of silent prayer . ” 

She is a lovely character and beloved by every- 
one.” 

Thanksgiving night was all that anyone could 
desire ; a full moon rode high in the heavens, and 
its silvery rays glorified the earth. The air was 
fresh and sweet, the school-house was comfort- 
ably filled and the programme was very creditably 
rendered. 

Mr. David was present, and while refresh- 
ments were being served, requested an introduc- 
tion to Miss Belinda. They conversed quite 
awhile and before leaving, he requested permis- 
sion of Miss Belinda to call on her, which she 


— 22 — 


After Many Years. 


readily granted, for she had been very favorably 
impressed with him. . 

Several evenings after, he called and Miss 
Belinda received him cordially. The more she 
conversed with him, the more puzzled she be- 
came, and she felt certain that she had met him 
before. There were certain little gestures and 
mannerisms that seemed so familiar. Where had 
she known him? They talked on many different 
subjects, and finally they discussed evolution and 
kindred subjects. After awhile Mr. David spoke 
of himself, and said : “You know that I am 
from the West, but it is only the country of my 
adoption. When I first went there, I did not be- 
lieve in God ; in fact, I was an Agnostic, but when 
I got out among the everlasting hills and those 
grand canyons, and saw all the wonders of nature, 
my heart and soul began to awaken to the fact 
that all this could not be chance, and I at last saw 
the light. All these years I have lived ‘near to 
nature’s heart,’ the simple life of a God-fearing- 
man, and now have come back to my native vil- 
lage to pass the remainder of my life. Belinda, 
do n’t you know me ?” and Belinda, looking at 
him with eyes dimmed with emotion, answered : 
“Yes, you are David Holford; I knew when I 


— 23 — 


After Many Years. 


first met you, that I had known you before, but 
you are so changed, and all these years I have 
treasured your image in my heart, as my brave 
young lover, never dreaming that time, that 
changes all things, would touch you so heavily. 
But, David, I too have suffered, for it was cruel 
of you not to write to me in the long years that 
have passed.” 

“Why, Belinda, I did write, only to have my 
letters returned unopened. It is only one month 
since I met a man from the old home, and he 
told me you were alive and still unmarried : then 
I determined to return home. It must have been 
your father who returned my letters, for you 
know, Belinda, he was very much opposed to our 
union.” 

“Well, David, I know that father thought it 
was best, so do not think too biterly of his mem- 
ory.” 

“Belinda, I have worked hard and have re- 
turned a rich man, and all I ask is that you will 
let me shelter you from the storms of life. Let 
us forget the past and live only for the future.” 

Just for a moment Belinda hesitated and then 
with clasped hands, and eyes beaming with joy, 
said : “David, we are no longer young, but my 


— 24 — 


After Many Years. 


heart has been yours all through the long weary 
years that have passed, and I am yours for all 
time : “whither thou goest, I will go.” 

David’s face was radiant with love, as he 
clasped her in his arms. 

(Written in 1889.) 


— 25 — 



“A Tempest In a Tea Pot . ” 


“Tis an old tale and often told. M 

— Scott. 











































































“«A tempest 31 tt a tftea 


“Not with more crimson hues, 

Looks the pure virgin rose, 

Than does the blush that vivifies her cheek, 

The glowing emblem of her spotless mind, 

The tint, that nature gives 
To innocence alone. ” 

— Anon. 


GfT HERE are some people who cannot live with- 
^ out constant companionship, and Miss Martha 
Woods was of that type ; a veritable village gos- 
sip. When Miss Martha failed to call with her 
daily bulletin of village news, we knew she must 
be ill, and after a few days had passed without 
seeing her familiar face, we were really relieved 
to hear her well-known voice with a cheery 
“Good morning — have you heard the latest 
news ?” 

Laughingly I answered, “Why no — what has 
happened now?’’ 

Miss Martha, looking very wise, resumed: 
“The Widow Brown has a new boarder and I 
know you will be surprised to know who he is. I 


— 29 — 


A Tempest in a Tea Pot. 


think she is very lucky, because he will pay well ; 
I know it will be a surprise to you.” 

“Perhaps it will,” answered I, “for I have 
not heard of any strangers coming to the village. 
All the old residents seem comfortable and satis- 
fied. It is a rare thing for anyone to change 
their place of abode in this sleepy hollow.” 

“Why, he is n’t a stranger,” exclaimed Miss 
Martha, “and now I know I have aroused your 
curiosity, so will tell you his name ; it is Mr. 
Blythe.” 

“Well, I’ll declare; I thought he was to stay 
with his wife’s relatives.” 

Miss Martha assumed a very wise air and 
said : “No, indeed ; they have no room for him, 
you know they really have no room for him;” 
and with nods and shrugs conveyed the meaning 
that they did not want him. 

I looked at Miss Martha very gravely and I 
wondered how she could talk so, for she really 
enjoyed a bit of gossip better than anything else 
in the world, and never seemed happier than when 
talking about someone. 

“I feel very sorry for that young man,” I re- 
sumed, “for I think there are lots of good traits 
in his character. He has had rather a hard time, 


— 30 — 


A Tempest in a Tea Pot. 


and he is still a really young man, but I think he 
has acted with good common-sense in obtaining 
board with Mrs. Brown. She is a fine house- 
keeper and will treat him well. There is not a 
better girl in the village than her daughter, Jes- 
sie,” I added. 

“Yes, she is a nice girl,” quoth Miss Martha, 
“but there is where I see breakers ahead. Mr. 
Blythe is so very fascinating, and he is a very 
thoughtless kind of a fellow. They are both 
musical and I predict that the village will have 
something to talk about.” 

“For shame,” I exclaimed; “give the poor 
man a chance to live.” I felt disgusted, for I 
liked both of the young people. Miss Martha 
scon took her departure, and I suppose this same 
conversation was repeated in the village many 
times before she finally reached home. 

Mrs. Brown was a most exemplary lady — a 
fine housekeeper, a good neighbor — and a true 
friend to anyone who had sickness or was in trou- 
ble. Her daughter, Jessie, was not at all pretty, 
but she had one redeeming feature and that was 
her eyes, dark brown, and beaming with intelli- 
gence. In manner she was not the first bit of a 


- 31 — 


A Tempest in a Tea Pot. 


coquette, in truth, she was considered to be a 
prude ; she was fond of music, books, and all that 
was uplifting. She would have scorned to do a 
mean action, and her sense of honor was of the 
highest. She was a rare type of character, and 
this was the girl whom Miss Martha spoke so 
lightly of. 

‘ ‘ She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew, 

As seeking not to know it — silent, lone, 

As grows a flower, thus quietly she grew. ” 

She neither liked or disliked Mr. Blythe when 
he first became an inmate of her mother’s home. 
She was rather distant with him for she had 
heard so many stories of his past wildness. 

Time passed swiftly, and he seemed to be per- 
fectly satisfied with his new home and after awhile 
began practising his music. He had a fairly 
good tenor voice. Jessie sang well and their 
voices blended beautifully together. 

Well, the gossips began to buzz. Why? Be- 
cause he was a widower and young, and because 
they were envious — for every village has its co- 
terie of maidens of forgotten age who are envious 
of youth ; forgetting that they were once young 
and possibly thoughtless, 


— 32 — 


A Tempest in a Tea Pot . 


“Nor do they trust their tongue alone, 

But speak a language of their own, 

Can read a nod, a shrug, a look, 

Far better than a printed book, 

Convey a libel with a frown, 

And wink a reputation down.” 
***** 

What more natural thing could have hap- 
pened, than that two young people, with mutual 
tastes and thrown daily together should have 
been attracted to each other? Both were young 
and the world before them. 

As soon as the first inkling of any little foolish 
gossip reached the ears of Mrs. Brown, she re- 
quested the young man to leave her house, and he 
did so at once. But that did not stop the gossips, 
for if he only stopped for a few moments to ex- 
change greetings with the friends who had been 
so kind to him, there was something said about it. 

Now, on account of Mr. Blythe being a wid- 
ower, Jessie accepted no attentions from him, 
while she had begun to like him more than she 
cared to acknowledge to herself. Finally he left 
the village without seeing or bidding Jessie fare- 
well, and the gossips were satisfied. 

There is more harm done in this old world by 


— 33 — 


A Tempest in a Tea Pot. 


evil thinking people, enlarging on trivial things, 
than one can imagine, and more lives are wrecked 
'by these same idle village gossips, whose lives are 
so narrow that they measure everything by their 
own standard. Their own youth, which lies far 
behind them, is forgotten, and they are ready to 
talk of every young girl in the village, and 
* 1 At every word a reputation dies. ’ ’ 
and often ’tis done thoughtlessly, but it is in the 
air and they cannot help it. 


— 34 -- 


The Magnetic Minister , 


“He hath an ear for pity, and a hand 
Open as day for melting charity. ” 

■ — Shakespeare. 



%1]C Jftagttefit Jltmisrier. 


“One in whom persuasion and belief 
Had ripened into faith, and faith become, 

A passionate intuition. ’ ’ 

— Wordsworth. 

“How are you all today,” cheerily said Miss 
Martha Woods. 

“Thanks, we are very well,” I responded, 
“come in.” 

“Well, I do n’t care if I do,” said Miss Martha, 
for I have something to tell you, anyhow.” 

“Why, what news have you now?” 

“Do you know, as I was sitting by my window, 
I saw Sallie Sands walking with the new minister. 
I coughed as they passed, but, laky me, they never 
heard me. She was talking and coquetting like 
a young girl, and she thirty-five years old, if she 
is a day.” 

“O, Miss Martha, be merciful, Sallie Sands is 
not that ancient.” 

“Well, I reckon I know when I was in the in- 
fant class at Sabbath School, she was a big half- 
grown girl.” 


— 37 — 


The Magnetic Minister. 


Of course I felt sufficiently silenced, but I 
happened to know that Miss Martha is near forty 
and Sallie is not yet thirty. After a little, she 
began again: 

“And the way the women are running after 
the minister is scandalous.” 

“Well, Miss Martha, he is young and so fine 
looking, you cannot blame the girls for liking him, 
for youth will mate with youth,” I answered. 

“A pretty minister’s wife Sallie Sands will 
make ; flighty thing like she is,” exclaimed Miss 
Martha. “He had better take a good, sensible, 
settled girl,” and she gave a self-satisfied glance 
into the opposite mirror. 

I wanted to laugh, but dared not, for Miss 
Martha was more desirable as a friend than an 
enemy. 

* * * * * 

Time passed and the minister’s every action 
became a matter of gossip. The poor man’s life 
was anything but a bed of roses, and through ir 
all he was always in a good humor, arid never 
seemed to have any special preference for anv 
lady’s society. 

The congregation increased every Sunday and 
the greater number were women ; the man seem- 

— 38 — 


The Magnetic Minister. 


ed to be possessed of wonderful personal magne- 
tism. 

As the months rolled by, the little jealousies 
and heart-burnings over the minister increased 
so much that different young ladies of the congre- 
gation, were bitter enemies 

Through it all the minister kept up a smiling 
front and “seeing, he saw not — and hearing, he 
heard not.” Though to the outside world he was 
calm and impassive, in his heart he felt sorry for 
each and every one of the women who had exert- 
ed themselves to please him, for he had dedicated 
his life to the church and celibacy ; and their adu- 
lation at times was irksome to him, and he longed 
for “new pastures.” 

To him there was something pathetic in ideal- 
izing a man although a minister. 

The spring passed and as the days gtj.v 
longer, the minister felt he must have a change, 
and he prepared to start on his annual vacation. 
He left them, and there were many prayers of- 
fered for his safe return, but he never returned, 
for he was called home to his “Father’s house of 
many mansions,” and there was general sorrow 
in the village. 

If such a thing is possible as our return to this 


— 39 — 


The Magnetic Minister. 


world after death, one can imagine the minister, 
sometime in the spirit, visiting the village church 
and seeing how soon we are forgotten when we 
are gone, for Alas ! the church has called another 
unmarried minister, and the disconsolate ones 
have taken heart of grace and are trying as hard 
to please him as they did his predecessor, and 
they are happy in the shadow of, 

1 1 Spires whose silent fingers point to heaven * ’ 
with their beloved minister unspotted from the 
world in the quiet village, and, after all, what 
would the minister do without the “women of his 
church?” For they are ever ready and willing 
to do anything for the advancement of Christ’s 
Kingdom on earth. 


— 40 — 


The Haunted House 


“Can such things be 
And overcome us, like a summer cloud, 

Without our special wonder V* 


— Shakespeare. 




fjratmtcft fimtse 


9V QUICK familiar step — I looked up from the 
C* book that I was reading to see “mine own 
familiar friend” Claire Jeune, standing before me. 
Her first words were : “Well, I have at last 
found a perfect house — a real gem — but as usual, 
I forget to mention that we have concluded to 
move.” 

Claire was always very impulsive, and thor- 
oughly happy disposition, and after a few min- 
utes I said to her, “Well, I am glad that you are 
so well pleased with your new home — for I think 
of all things house-hunting is the most disagree- 
able and most trying on one’s nerves although 
there are some people who may be classed as pro- 
fessional house-hunters, so well do they like it, 
but where is this wonderful house?” 

“Why, that old two-story house out at the 
cross-roads; there is quite a grove of trees sur- 
rounding the house and it is the only house of 
that style in the village. We are delighted with 
it, and as I said before, it is a gem, and we hope 
to move Monday.” 


— 43 — 


The Haunted House. 


I looked at her perfectly aghast. “Why, 
Claire, I really believe you mean the old haunted 
house — the one there are so many gruesome 
stories about.” Claire answered, “I do not know 
anything about that part of it, but I never was 
afraid of the dead and I am of some live people. 
But my dear, while I am standing here talking to 
you (for she had never sat down) I am wasting 
valuabe time, so come to see us next week and I 
know you will envy me my house. Au Revoir,” 
and waving her hand, happy Claire was off. It 
was a perfect day and Claire’s brightness seemed 
to illume everything. She was embodied sun- 
shine. I little dreamed of what a change would 
be in her when next I would see her. 

***** 

The days slipped by rapidly and about ten 
days after the above conversation I managed to 
find time from my numerous duties at home to 
call on Claire. It was quite a little distance from 
my home, but I concluded to walk, as the day was 
bright and sunny. 

As I walked along, I noticed the mellowing 
tints of Autumn were on the bush and tree, and 
my thoughts took a very serious turn, for while 
the day was bright and beautiful vet all around 


44 - 


The Haunted House. 


were the signs of decay, and I realized that the 
'‘Melancholy days had come.” 

After awhile, I came in sight of the house 
and I was charmed with its appearance. It stood 
on a slight eminence and was a commodious 
Ante-Bellum mansion, set in a lawn of green grass 
and surrounded by immense trees that seemed to 
have stood guard for a century. I walked up 
the gravel walk to the front door, everything 
seemed strangely still and when I pulled the old- 
fashioned knocker I was startled, so intensely 
quiet was everything that the knocker caused an 
echo. 

Claire opened the door, and at the first glance 
I saw there was something dreadfully amiss with 
her, so I said, “Why, Claire, have you been ill and 
did not send for me?” With a wan smile, she 
answered : 

“No, my dear, I have not been ill, but you see 
before you a nervous wreck — not from illness of 
body, but of the mind. I nor anyone else can 
sleep in this God-forsaken house — and yet how 
can I explain it all — just at midnight hollow 
raps begin until the noise becomes terrific, ending 
with (what seems like) a scuffle in the hall. As 


The Haunted House. 


the raps cease then the walking of an invisible 
person begins and continues until near dawn. 

“The footsteps seem to be of a man, for they 
are so heavy, and with the accompanying noise 
of a walking cane. Up and down the stairway, 
corridors and galleries, keeping up a ceaseless 
tread until near dawn, when they grow fainter and 
slower as if it was so tired; it is horrible;” and 
poor Claire began to cry. 

I felt distressed, for of course I was shocked. 
I really thought that Claire was mentally unbal- 
anced, and I said, “are you sure it is n’t a dream ?” 

Claire became very indignant, and told of the 
day before having heard the walking of a man 
and yet could see no one. This in daylight. 
That night Claire’s young brother (who is an 
ameteur telegrapher) was in his room quietly 
reading — it was near midnight — when suddenly 
the instrument commenced ticking a message — no 
one near it. The few words he could understand 
were : “If you will look,” and then, it ticked so 
fast, and the poor boy was so terrified that he 
could not catch the rest. There were mysterious 
whispers, loud raps on furniture, swish of gar- 
ments passing through the air, rocking of a chair. 


— 46 - 


The Haunted House. 


Well, Claire had a lease on the house and she 
went to the owner and told him it was impossible 
to live there. He told her to have some of her 
friends stop with her and substantiate her state- 
ments and she could move. 

Her friends rallied around her nobly and 
proved that it was impossible to live peacably in 
the house. Claire’s hair turned grey and she look- 
ed years older, when she left that house. It was 
some time before she ever recovered her old 
bouyancy of spirits and was once more the happy 
impulsive Claire of old. 

The old house still stands — a grim reminder 
of the past. It is always changing tenants, and 
I often wonder if anyone else has had the same 
experience that Claire had. 

I have always been extremely sceptical as 
regards the supernatural, but this experience has 
rather shaken my views, and I do not know what 
to think, for in the truth of such evidence as this 
I think like the poet, Longfellow : 

* 1 And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud, 
Throws o’er the sea a floating bridge of light 
Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd, 
Into the realm of mystery and night. 


— 47 — 


The Haunted House . 


So from the world of spirits there descends 
A bridge of light uniting it with this 
O'er whose unsteady floor that sways and bends, 
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss." 


(Note — I will say that I know this "Ghost Story" 
will be ridiculed and pronounced improbable by strong 
minded people, but it is no more improbable than some 
ghost stories by famous authors, for instance "The 
Hall Bedroom" or "The Upper Berth," or a dozen 
others that I could mention, but these, by well-known 
authors, are enough to show that "Ghost Stories" fill 
a place in fiction as well as any other. My little 
sketch is only a bare statement of facts — for it is all 
true — with change of characters and location, which I 
thought best.) 


— 48 — 


A Golden Wedding. 


“Hail, wedded love, mysterious law; true 
Source of human happiness. ; , 


— Milton. 



A (Sulfott WcbMng. 


‘ 1 Bridegroom and bride, as on they go, 
Into the sunset's golden glow." 


— Powers. 



T WAS one of those rare days in early autumn 
^ when summer seems loath to leave us, that 
the population of the village was increased by the 
arrival of an aged couple — Dr. and Mrs. Wren. 


They had been residents of a thriving West- 


ern town, for many years, and the Doctor had suc- 
ceeded in establishing quite a lucrative practice. 
As they advanced in years, they found the climate 
so severe in winter that they decided to migrate 
to the land of perpetual sunshine, the “Sunny 
South.” 

The Doctor wrote to several land agents and 
inquired about different localities, and finally he 
exchanged his comfortable home for quite a large 
tract of pine land in the suburbs of the village, 
which the old residents thought (with pardonable 
pride) was the New Eldorado. There was a 
small cottage on the land, but no near neighbors 


— 51 — 


The Golden Wedding. 


and so many acres surrounding it that it meant 
isolation and loneliness. 

The only near neighbors were negroes, and 
they could not affiliate with them. When the old 
couple first gazed on their new home, they were 
sadly disappointed, for the utter loneliness of the 
situation was appalling. The contrast from the 
bustling Western town to this open country, was 
too great a change for the old folks, but they had 
to be satisfied. So they tried to make the best of 
it and settled down to be as comfortable as cir- 
cumstances would permit. 

The Doctor soon secured enough practice in 
the neighborhood to keep the wolf from the door, 
but the old couple were accustomed to the brisk 
Western ways, and could not feel natural with 
such a complete change, and of courst it 
would take time before they would be or feel 
thoroughly at home with Southern ways or en- 
vironments. Everything was so different, and 
they became homesick almost at the very begin- 
ning, and what can be worse than the longing 
for home and old friends ? 

At the time of which I write they had been 
living in or rather near the village about three 


— 52 — 


The Golden Wedding. 


years, and every day getting poorer, until they 
were really in a destitute condition. 

The Doctor was in wretched health and his 
good wife was also failing rapidly. Their Golden 
Wedding day was drawing near. Broken in 
health and spirit, with no money — not even the 
common necessaries of life — it seemed as if it 
would be a very sad anniversary for them. 

At a Charity Organization meeting, one of the 
members mentioned the aged couple and their 
dire necessities. Immediately it was arranged by 
those earnest Christian women to make it a fes- 
tive occasion. Each member was requested to 
prepare a basket of good things to eat. Then a 
committee was appointed to solicit provisions or 
money from the merchants and leading men of 
the village. 

The money, or part of it, was used to buy an 
easy chair for the old lady, and one of the mer- 
chants presented the Doctor with a substantial 
suit of clothes. The auspicious day arrived, and 
it was in October, but in our soft Southern cli- 
mate, more like balmy spring. There was a 
large wagon load of provisions and conveyances 
for a delegation of ladies, and what a congenial 
jolly crowd they were. 


— 53 — 


The Golden Wedding. 


When they arrived at the simple home the old 
couple were taken completely by surprise. The 
first thing on the programme was the presenta- 
tion of the chair to the old lady, with congratula- 
tions on the rare event. Then the old lady was 
led to the chair — the seat of honor. It was piti- 
ful to see her, she was so happy, just like a little 
child. The doctor’s suit had been sent to him 
in the morning, with the request that he put it on 
and wear it on his anniversary — which he did. 

Meanwhile several of the Good Samaritans 
spread the table on the lawn and a very beautiful 
sight it was. There were quantities of roast 
turkey, chicken, all kinds of meats, and salads, 
cakes, pies, home-made pickles and preserves, with 
an abundance of ice cream. The table was deco- 
rated with golden rod and autumn foliage, in 
honor of the event. Never was a finer wedding 
feast spread in the village, besides provisions to 
last through the winter and then 

“The ancient bridegroom and the bride 
Smiling contented and serene 
Upon the blithe, bewildering scene, ” 
were led to the head of the table, and all standing, 
the old lady said, with tears of joy, and a voice 
that trembled with emotion: “Husband, this. 


— 54 — 


The Golden Wedding. 


takes me back to our wedding supper, fifty years 
ago, and think in our old age what friends God 
has sent us ; who have no relatives and are even 
childless. We are strangers in a strange land, 
but we are not friendless. Praise the Lord.” 

Then the Doctor asked a blessing on the food 
and the Good Samaritans that had provided it. 
By this time everyone felt very solemn, however 
in a little while, that soon passed off, for all fell 
to eating and chattering, and all was as merry as 
a marriage bell. After they had finished, the 
health of the aged couple was drunk in sparkling 
water. 

The pantry was well stocked and everything 
comfortably and tidily arranged for them, and 
with many kind words, they were bidden farewell. 

As all drove homeward through the woods, 
in all their brilliant autumn coloring, and fra- 
grant with the scent of the pines, twilight was 
fast deepening into night, but I think each and 
everyone felt better for having thrown a little sun- 
shine athwart the pathway of a lonely, childless, 
old couple, who were rapidly drifting toward that 
“bourne from whence no traveller returns.” 


— 55 — 



A Theatrical Trio 


‘‘To hoid as ’twere, the mirror up to nature.’ ’ 

— Shakespeari 















































































. 




















































































































<A trircettrtcal Ijlrio. 


“All the worlds a stage, 

And all the men and women merely players.” 

— Shakespeare. 

<^£HE village had been very dull — no amuse- 
ments whatever, and I was very much sur- 
prised on looking out of my window one morning 
in May to see the fence across the street decorated 
with theatrical play-bills, gorgeous in coloring, 
announcing that the “Lady of Lyons” would be 
played by a company of provincial actors on the 
next evening at Odd Fellows’ Hall, which was the 
most pretentious building in the village. 

On the opening night the Hall was quite well 
filled for it was an innovation in the village — a 
real theatrical performance. There was an 
amateur dramatic and an amateur minstrel com- 
pany — all home talent — besides several dancing 
clubs, but this was the first appearance of real 
actors in the village. 

There were only three in the company — Mr. 
and Mrs. Watts and their cousin, Mr. Revere — 


— 59 — 


A Theatrical Trio. 


but they were all good actors, and did the work of 
six. Their performance consisted of what we, 
(in these latter days) call high class vaudeville. 

Mr. Watts was a lightning change artist, a 
comic vocalist and was fine in monologue, in fact 
an all-around good comedian of the old school. 
His wife (who by the way was a very charming 
young woman) had a finely trained soprano voice 
sang all the classics, and accompanied herself on 
a small organ which was a part of their stage par- 
aphernalia. She was the leading attraction of 
the troupe. 

Mr. Watts was very stout and much older 
than his wife and in love scenes cut a ridiculous 
figure. To see him act the part of “Claude Mel- 
notte” was laughable in the extreme. 

Mrs. Watts always dressed and acted her part 
to perfection. She was a finished actress, and 
was soon a prime favorite with everyone. Mr. 
Revere also sang comic songs in character, and he 
was as thin as Mr. W. was stout. He sang all 
the English Coster songs in vogue at that time, 
and he soon became a favorite with the boys, and 
always brought down the house. 

They liked the village so well that they spent 
the entire summer, giving three performances a 


— 60 — 


A Theatrical Trio. 


week, alternating with performances in an ad- 
jacent village. The summer was a lively one in 
the village. The oldest inhabitant could not re- 
member ever before a summer like unto this one, 
and there was a very great amount of criticism on 
the theatrical trio, but Mrs. Watts gained many 
friends and all learned to love her, for she was a 
sweet, refined gentlewoman. 

The more I saw of her the more I wondered 
how she could be contented with such a roving 
life, yet she never was heard to complain, but 
was always calm anl smiling — seemed perfectly 
happy. 

She was the mother of a lovely baby boy, to 
whom she was devotedly attached. About this 
time the measles made their annual appearance 
in the village, and soon were epidemic. Mrs. 
Watts’ babe was one of the first to contract the 
disease. He was very ill from the first and was 
ill only a few days when the doctor said he would 
die. 

Well, the poor young mother was inconsol- 
able. It was on Saturday, and they were to play 
that night. I went there just at twilight to in- 
quire for the little sufferer and I shall never for- 


— 61 — 


A Theatrical Trio. 


get the scene that I witnessed in that sick room 
and by the side of that dying child. 

The mother was crying and pleading with her 
husband to postpone the evening’s entertainment 
and let her stay those last sad hours with her boy. 

He was like granite ; said they needed the 
money and she would be compelled to go through 
her part. She pleaded again so pitiful, how he 
could resist her I never could understand, but he 
was firm and he was determined she should act. 

Kind neighbors came in and cared for the lit- 
tle one during his mother’s absence. I was at 
the hall that night. She acted her part just as 
charmingly, and sang her songs as merrily as she 
ever had before. No one would have thought 
that her heart was almost breaking and that her 
thoughts were with her dying boy. He lived until 
just a little while after their return, and was 
buried the next day (Sunday) in the village 
graveyard, where 

“Each in his narrow cell forever laid 
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. ” 

* * * * > 1 : 

This world is very small at best, and miles 
away from the village I met a friend of Mrs. 
Watts who toll me the story of her life. She 


— 62 — 


A Theatrical Trio. 


was a native of Jamaica, W. I., of English par- 
entage. Her father was a clergyman of the 
Church of England. This girl was tenderly 
reared and carefully educated and when just at 
that tender age when 

‘ 1 Standing with reluctant feet 
Where the brook and river meet” 

the child-woman met this strolling actor, became 
enamored will him and stage life, and ended by 
eloping with him. That she must have truly 
loved him goes without saying, for with her tal- 
ents she could have won fame and fortune on the 
legitimate stage, or she could have taught music 
and elocution. There is an old adage which is 
very true in this case : “Love is blind.” and here 
it may be very aptly applied. Of her we can 
truthfully say : 

“ There is a destiny that shapes our ends 
Rough hew them as we may.” 

For surely it must have been destiny, fate, call it 
what you will, that so changed the current of this 
charming woman’s life from the peaceful seclu- 
sion of a clergyman’s home, and all of its hallowed 
surroundings, to that of the public life of an act- 
ress, with all of its glittering shams, temptations 


— 63 — 


A Theatrical Trio. 


and snares. Could anything have been more op 
posite than her life in her island home? 

But through it all she still remained the same 
refined gentlewoman, and with her, 

“Time could not wither nor custom stale. 

Her infinite variety. ” 


64 - 


A TV oman ’s Kingdom. 


“Not she with traitorous kiss her Master stung, 
Not she denied him with unfaithful tongue, 

She when Apostles fled, could danger brave, 
Last at the cross, and earliest at the grave. ” 


— E. T. Barrett. 



A Woman’s fjttttgimm. 


‘‘Life is real — Life is earnest, 

And the grave is not the goal. ” 

— Longfellow. 

* 21 E ANYONE had have hinted at such a thing 
^ as woman’s suffrage in the village of Pike- 
town, why, there would have arisen an indignant 
denial on all sides — a very vigorous protest — and 
yet I know of no place where, in a quiet way, wo- 
men were so very much in evidence as they were 
in Piketown. With them it was “Let us then be 
up and doing.” They led all important move- 
ments. 

In church work, they had auxiliaries to all the 
male clubs, besides having Card Clubs, a Literary 
Club, an Embroidery Club, and the latest addi- 
tion was a Temperance Union, which soon ex- 
erted a strong influence in the village, having the 
largest membership of any of the local clubs. 

The members went to work with a will, study- 
ing Parliamentary law and fitting themselves so 
that they could carry on the work in a creditable 


— 67 — 


A Woman's Kingdom. 


manner. In a very short time their meetings be- 
came intellectual treats, for there were some ex- 
ceptionally bright women among them. They 
were gifted above the average. 

They had only been working a few weeks when 
they had secured one hundred and twenty-five 
honorary members. And that meant total absti- 
nence for that number of men. When the mem- 
bership had reached this number, the ladies con- 
cluded to give a reception to honorary members. 

A great amount of criticism went on among 
rival Clubs-women, as how impossible it was to 
give a reception without the inspiring “punch 
bowl.” But the motto of the Union was : “Touch 
not; Taste not; Handle not!” It is needless to 
say that Piketown society was in a ferment over 
such an unheard of proceeding. The temperance 
folk went to work with a will and arranged a 
programme with several essays by members (re- 
lating to the work) vocal and instrumental music 
and recitations. 

The refreshments were ices deliciously served. 
The ladies all looked their best, and with the wit 
and intellectuality with which they were endowed, 
made up a very charming evening. 

Shortly after the reception they were asked to 


— 68 — 


A Woman's Kingdom. 


co-operate with some of the village authorities 
in the suppression of vice, and one of the things 
they were asked to report was Progressive 
Euchre. 

As there were several Euchre Clubs among 
the best people in town, the temperance folk felt 
that they would, in a measure, be spying on one’s 
neighbors and not by any means living up to the 
Golden Rule. They considered that a man’s 
home was his castle and therein he could do as he 
pleased, so they declined the honor of being tale- 
bearers. 

In a way it was quite a compliment, as it went 
to prove that the temperance work was appre- 
ciated by some of the leading people of the village. 

They were really asked to assist in regulating 
the morals of the village plutocracy. But they 
were only working against the great evil of in- 
temperance, and that, in a measure they did good, 
is enough. 

Like all other pioneers in a great movement 
(for it was great) they were martyrs to public 
opinion. The petty persecutions they stood for 
one of the grandest causes in the world were in- 
numerable, but in all good work there is a feeling 
of satisfaction that upholds one, for they know 


— 69 — 


A Woman's Kingdom. 


that they are only doing what they think is right ; 
they are only humble instruments of the Master. 
No matter what is ever attempted for the com- 
mon good of humanity, there are always ‘ ‘croak- 
ers” who, in a way, try to make light of it and it 
is only those who have at some time of their lives 
gone into work of this kind who understand them 
and therefore pay no attention to them, so 
“Let all thy efforts tend 
Through life to some great, some noble end, 

And life itself will soon a nobler aspect wear . } * 

Note — In the years that have elapsed since this 
was written, prohibition has come to be an accepted 
fact in many states, and a great moral wave has swept 
over the country, for morality and total abstinence 
are twin sisters. (1895.) 


— 70 — 


The Country Dance. 


“Come and join the merry dance 
For youth is very fleeting . 11 

















%\\t Cmmfrtr Paiwe 

- of - 

Ife GMhett %i mt. 


“Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; 

And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.’ ’ 

— Midsummer Night’s Dream. 

% HROUGH the fragrant pine woods with the 
silvery moonbeams beaming o’er them, a 
party of young people drove, making the forest 
ring with their merry jest and song. ’Twas very 
pleasant to inhale the cool damp air of the pine 
woods, for the day had been extremely warm and 
the sun of Indian summer had brooded o’er the 
land with scorching intensity. 

The young folk were bound for a country 
dance, given on a farm some distance from the 
village. They were all piled in promiscuous 
fashion, in an old springless farm wagon, with no 
seats but a good bed of hay and an occasional 
jolt caused by running over a fallen tree, or small 
stump, only added to the general good humor, 
and merriment of the party, for they made the 
woodland ring with their laughter. 


- 73 — 


The Country Dance. 


There were three couples and their chaperones 
in the party. Rollicking Sam Steele and his de- 
mure little sweetheart, Carrie Dent, sentimental 
Claude Hughes, an embryo “poet,” and Marie 
Haynes, who thought him the equal of Tennyson, 
because his poems were all addressed to her, and 
Rupert Ford, who had an exquisite tenor voice 
and mischievous Edna Freeman, who sang alto. 

Unfortunately Rupert was the ugly man of the 
party, being really very homely. But his voice 
was his greatest charm, and the girls enjoyed his 
singing better out on the porch, at night, as they 
could enjoy his melodious voice without looking 
at him. He was very susceptible and fell in love 
with every new girl that came to town. His fa- 
vorite way of being nice to the girls was serenad- 
ing them. One of his friends told him that he 
had sung under the girl’s windows so much that 
they had become disgusted with him. 

As they drove along, Claude sang in a thin 
little voice 

“In the gloaming, O my darling , ” 

whereupon Rupert gave a disgusted look and 
sang, accompanying himself on the guitar, 
i 1 Come, where my love lies dreaming, 

Dreaming the happy hours away. ’ ’ 


— 74 — 


The Country Dance. 


and after loud applause, he again sang 
“Darling, I am growing old, 

Silver threads among the gold, 

Shine upon my brow today, 

Life is fading fast away. ; , 

Sam Steele joined in the chorus with his full 
baritone, and Edna, with her soft alto, and their 
melodious voices blended so beautifully together 
that they would have put many professionals to 
shame. 

By this time they had reached their destina- 
tion. There was quite a large gathering of belles 
and beaux from the surrounding country present, 
and in a short time our merry party were dancing 
an old-fashioned quadrille, or, as the country folk 
called it, a “square dance.” 

The music was furnished by a venerable 
Negro man with his “fiddle,” as he called it, who 
when he played, rolled his eyes, and bobbed his 
head, keeping time with his feet. It seemed that 
everything he played had the same air. Mischiev- 
ous Edna Freeman laughed and said, “Uncle 
Mose, what is the name of the tune you are play- 
ing?” 

“Dat, Missie, is ‘De old Hen Cackles,’ and 
now I’m gwine to play ‘De Debbil’s Dream’ and 


— 75 — 


The Country Dance. 


the old man played the same old tune, with a few 
variations. One of the young men from the vil- 
lage called the figures, the one affording the most 
amusement was called the “Coquette,” and with 
“Dolce Do,” “Swing Your Corners,” the time 
passed merrily. 

At midnight refreshments were served — cider 
and home-made cake — and then another dance, 
after which our merry party thought it best to 
start on the long homeward drive, and with many 
hearty “good-byes” they were off. 

On the way home the chaperones were very 
sleepy and tired and before they reached home all 
three of the young couples had promised “to walk 
the long road of life together.” Even Rupert 
had charmed Edna with his lovely voice. As 
they reached home, it was near the “wee sma’ 
hours” of the morning, and they were a very tired 
but an extremely happy crowd of young people, 
and although around them all was darkest night 
(for the moon had sunk to rest) yet to them 
everything was “couleur de rose” with the light 
of love and youth, for 

1 ‘ Love ’s the gift that God has given, 

To man alone beneath the heaven . y) 


— 76 — 


The Female Evangelist. 


“The groves were God’s first temples.” 


— Bryant. 


<£ite entitle Evangelist. 


1 ‘ Unto the pure, all things are pure. ’ ’ 

— Titus. 

m ITH the coming of the Evangelist, a tidal 
wave of religious enthusiasm seemed to 
sweep over the village. The very fact that the 
Evangelist was a woman, aroused a great amount 
of comment and curiosity. 

So, from the high-ways and by-ways and from 
“Over the hills and far away” the country folk 
came, in all kinds of conveyances to hear the 
“Woman preacher.” The meetings were held in 
a large tent, which was spread on the village 
green, and the tent was soon taxed to its very 
greatest capacity. 

The Evangelist was a large, strong-looking 
woman, with a very sweet face, just an earnest 
self-reliant Christian woman. Her language was 
beautiful, and she was thoroughly conversant 
with the Scriptures, and preached extempora- 
neously. 

She was accompanied by a singing evangelist 


The Female Evangelist. 


of the sterner sex, and she would walk up and 
down the platform exhorting sinners to repent 
while he would sing, 

“Old-time religion is good enough for me,” 

or that inspiring one, 

“Building up the temple of the Lord , ” 

or that other old camp meeting favorite, 

‘ ‘ Happy Day. ’ ' 

It was wonderful to see strong men kneel be- 
fore her repeating prayers after her like little 
children. Men that (in some cases) had not 
prayed since childhood. Indeed she compelled 
them by the very force of her will and magnetic 
power. 

Then she would walk through the crowd ask- 
ing different members of the congregation had 
they the power of prayer. She had such a won- 
derful influence over the simple country folk 
that the meetings became a veritable pandemo- 
nium, insomuch as there would be groaning con- 
fessions, crying, shouting and all kinds of emo- 
tional hysteria. That she made many converts 
goes without saying, while I believe her magnet- 
ism was the most potent factor. 

One night there was a man arose and asked 
them to pray for him as he was a sinner; just 


— 80 — 


The Female Evangelist. 


then a woman in the rear of the tent arose and 
called out wildly, “Pray for that man and for his 
salvation, for he is my brother-in-law/’ and it 
sounded ludicrous and sensational. 

Then a woman, bent with age, and in widows’ 
weeds, arose and asked the prayers of the congre- 
gation saying, “Pray for me ; I am a widow and 
an orphan.” She must have been three score 
years and ten — so withered and old was she. 

As a matter of course there were many con- 
verts, and let us hope that it was lasting. She 
remained one week in the village and it was a 
memorable week, for in many ways she did good 
for there were men that connected themselves 
with the different churches in the village then 
that are consistent members today, while others 
have wandered from the fold. 

The meetings, however, were unique and will 
ever be remembered by the older residents as 
will also the Female Evangelist who believed in 
“old-time religion,” for 
“ There’s nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.’ ’ 

— Shakespeare. 


— 81 — 





A 


“Mammy. ” 


‘‘Well done, thou good and faithful servant . ” 


I 



“JHmmng.” 


Old Mammy sits in her hide-bottom chair, 
No Queen on her throne is prouder, 

And rocks and sways to and fro, 

And sings ever louder and louder. 


AM MY can very justly be called the friend 
of everyone in the village, for there is 
nothing of importance ever happens in the village 
but what “Mammy” takes part in her own humble 
way. 


She knows the history of every one in the vil- 
lage, and is kind and sympathetic; doing all she 
can for everyone with whom she is brought in 
contact. She has a remedy for every disease. 

She is one of the most perfect types of the 
Ante-Bellum Negro. One of the rare type of 
the good old Southern servants that is fast pass- 
ing away. 

Mammy has been with her “white folks” (as 
she calls them) near two score years, and is just 


— 85 — 


“M ammy ” 

as faithful an$ true as she was in the old slavery 
days. 

One of her favorite expressions is “Right is 
right and do n’t hurt nobody,” and she certainly 
does right. One of her queer maxims is “Tak- 
ing kear (meaning care) is better than axin 
pardon.” 

Sometime ago a gentleman in Mammy’s neigh- 
borhood, was very ill, and every morning, Mam- 
my had some new omen to relate. One night she 
heard an owl screech (which the Negros believe 
to be a sure sign of death) another night she 
heard a horse neigh in front of the door. 

Then she would add, “Dey do say as how Mr. 
R. is moughty bad off.” Finally the poor man 
died, and then Mammy was more important than 
ever. “I told you so; I knew he was gwine to 
die ; my signs neva’ fail.” Then she added “Well 
he was a powerful rich man, but dare is no pockets 
in shrouds, and he had to leave it all behind.” 

She has a perfect contempt for “Niggas,” as 
she calls the ordinary kind, and prides herself on 
being treated by the “white folks” as if she was 
white, but she says she knows she is black and 
she always knows her place and keeps it. 


— 86 — 


“Mammy ” 


Mammy has hymns for every festival in the 
year, and when she is in any trouble or the least 
bit worried her favorite is 

“I’m gwine home to glory 
O Angils, O Lawd! 

Frens an’ relations a-staning round 
O Angils, O Lawd!’" 

sung in a high pitched trembling key. On Good 
Friday she sings all day long : 

“Dose cruyel Jews, 

Dey crucified my Lawd, 

O Lawd, O Lawd!” 

sung in a most doleful manner, and without ceas- 
ing. 

The most important event in her life is when 
the “Postman” brings her a letter. She is so 
proud and worries the young folks to answer her 
letters. 

Faithful servant, never swerving from her 
duty; may she live many years to come for her 
like is not to be found among the more modern 
types of her race today. If all the Negroes were 
like Mammy, there would be no race problem to 
solve, or no question of social equality, for they, 
like Mammy, would know their place and keep 
it, and be satisfied in the sphere wherein God has 


— 87 — 


“Mammy” 


placed them. I seem to hear her now as she 
sings : 

“I see ma Jesus, toting his cross, 

O Angils, O Lawd! 

An’ Pontius Pilate a-ridm’ his white hoss 


O Angils, O Lawd!” 


A Fools Paradise 


In this fool’s paradise, he drank delight.” 

— George Crabbe. 

The paradise of fools, to few unknown.” 


— Milton. 



<A JWls jparaMsc. 


1 1 Thinkest thou there are no serpents in the world, 
But those who slide along the grassy sod, 

And sting the luckless foot that presses them. ,f 

— Joanna Bailie. 

twilight shadows were falling o’er the 
earth, and looming majestically on the dis- 
tant horizon was Lookout Mountain. One 
would never think to gaze on that tranquil scene 
that one of the most horrible battles of the Civil 
War was fought there ; one that made Missionary 
Ridge famous for all time. Into this quiet syl- 
van scene there came stray visitors from the busy 
world; men and women of note, and all the time 
the drama of real life was being enacted among 
the dwellers in the valley. It had been an unu- 
sually busy day for it was the wedding day of 
Ruth Selden, the only daughter of Squire Selden, 
who was one of the most important farmers n the 
Tennessee Valley, for not only was he an up-to- 
date farmer, but a member of the legislature as 
well. 

Of course the marriage of his only child was 


— 91 — 


A Fool’s Paradise. 


quite an event in the neighborhood, and had been 
the chief topic of interest for weeks. 

Ruth was a pretty, slim, brown-eyed girl of 
seventeen summers and was as innocent and unso- 
phisticated as girls who are reared “near to na- 
ture’s heart” are wont to be. 

The young man who had won her pure heart 
was a stranger in the valley. His name was 
Harry Retcar, but he was better known among 
his associates as Hal. 

Ruth first met him at a country dance, and 
’twas a case of love at first sight with both of 
the young people, and although they had only 
been acquainted three months, preparations had 
been made for their marriage. Hal. was a tall, 
fine-looking fellow, some years older than Ruth. 
He was a conductor on the railroad that connect- 
ed the valley with the rest of the world. When he 
asked the Squire for his daughter ’twas looked 
upon as a very good settlement in life for a coun - 
try girl, while her parents would have preferred 
her marrying a farmer and remaining in the 
neighborhood. 

All the neighbors had come forward and as- 
sisted Mrs. Selden to prepare the wedding supper, 
and there were quantities of roast turkey, chicken, 


— 92 — 


A Fool's Paradise. 


boiled ham, salads and other “trimmings” as the 
genial Squire said. 

The whole country-side was bidden to the wed- 
ding. The bride would have no attendants, but 
came into the room alone and was met at the 
impromptu altar by the groom. Her parents 
stood on the other side, forming a very effective 
tableau. 

Her dress, old-fashioned grandmother swiss, 
made very simply and girlish. Her mother had 
made it at nights, and there were many tears shed 
while she did it, for she was very loath to part 
with her “one ewe lamb.” 

The bride looked lovely, draped in an exqui- 
site bridal veil, a present from the groom, he hav- 
ing brought it from Chattanooga. She was a 
dainty looking bride, and as Elder Jackson joined 
them in holy wedlock, her wistful little face wore 
an air of great solemnity, her eyes shining seemed 
to be gazing into the great beyond. 

After the “ceremony” there was feasting and 
merry-making into the “wee sma’ hours. In 
the morning the newly married couple departed 
for their new home, which was located in the vil- 
lage not far away. 

After the departure of the young couple on 
— 93 — 


A Fool's Paradise. 


their “sentimental journey” things went on in 
the same old way at the farm. Breakfast at six, 
and dinner at noon, supper at six in the evening, 
and a very substantial supper it was, with plenty 
of hard work in between. 

Ploughing, harrowing, planting and the thou- 
sand and one duties that are to be attended to on 
a farm. The old fok heard regularly from Ruth, 
and from her letters she appeared to be happy. 

She was fairly well educated and wrote long 
letters, telling all the details of her simple home 
life. When she had been married about six 
months, Squire Selden came in one evening after 
having been into the nearest town, and seemed 
very much excited. 

He called out: “O Ma; come here; come 
quick,” and sat on the front stoop. 

Mrs. Selden came out in a great hurry, and 
being very stout she was almost breathless for a 
moment; finally she managed to say: “Why, 
whatever is the matter, Pa?” 

“Well, look at this anonymous letter I got out 
of the Post Office this morning,” said Pa, “and 
tell me what you think of it.” 

Mrs. Selden adjusted her spectaces and read 


— 94 — 


4 Fool's Paradise. 


the letter. When she had finished she dropped it 
as if it burned her, and she was ghastly pale. 

At last she said : “Why, I do n’t know what 
to make of it.” The writer said he was very sor- 
ry to cause any annoyance to an extremely happy 
family, but that he wanted to inform them that 
the man his daughter had married was already 
a married man, and his wife was living in Vir- 
ginia. 

Squire Selden seemed to have grown old sud- 
denly — he looked so careworn. The old folk 
decided to send for their quondam son-in-law 
and ask him if there was any truth in what they 
had heard, and the Squire wrote for him to come 
at once, for important business. Two days later 
in the late evening Hal. came. The Squire and 
his good wife gave him a hearty welcome and 
then after supper, while Mrs. Selden was super- 
intending the dairy (for she attended to all that 
work herself), the Squire and Hal. sat on the 
front porch smoking and talking. They had 
been out there only a few minutes when the 
Squire asked Hal. about the letter, adding : “Now 
son, I do n’t believe it, but Ma and I thought it 
would relieve our minds if you knew of this let- 
ter.” Hal. was indignant. “Why, Squire, I 


— 95 — 


4 Fool's Paradise. 


am very much shocked that anyone would try to 
injure me in' that way. I did not know that I 
had an enemy, but I suppose carrying off the 
prettiest girl in the valley has made enemies for 
me. I will give you my mother’s address in Vir- 
ginia, and you can write to her.” “Why, Hal. 
there is no need of it,” said Squire Selden, “I 
believe you,, my son.” 

Hal. spent several days at the farm before he 
returned home, and the old folk thought he was a 
fine fellow. He never let Ruth know what the 
urgent business was that her parents wanted to 
see him about. 

^ ^{c ^ ^ ^ 

Ruth’s bright eyes were brighter than usual 
with a new hope — that of motherhood — and in 
due time the baby arrived, a girl, and a second 
Ruth. The young mother felt her cup of happi- 
ness was full to o’erflowing. When the baby 
was six months old, the first little cloud came be- 
tween them, and that was in the shape of a letter 
which Hal. received, read and destroyed in his 
wife’s presence, wthout any explanation what- 
ever. She thought it so strange for she always 
gave him her letters to read. That passed off 
and it was not long before another one came with 


- 96 — 


A Fool's Paradise. 


the same postmark, an obscure village in Vir- 
ginia. 

This met with the same fate as the other, still 
Ruth said nothing, but she determined if another 
came, she would see it. In about one month the 
third letter arrived. It was now the ninth month 
of her little one’s life. She took the letter in 
her hand, looked very grave, turned it over and 
over, then suddenly she remembered one day she 
wrote a note to her mother and after sealing it, 
she thought of a message she would like to send 
her. She was about to tear the letter open and 
her husband, who was at home, said: “Don’t 
do that, little woman ; give it to me, I can open it 
for you without breaking the seal.” She gave it 
to him and he walked into the kitchen and held 
'the envelope over the spout of the steaming ket- 
tle until the mucilage was softened and opened it. 

Ruth did likewise and opened his letter. She 
felt guilty and rather ashamed, but she also felt 
that she must know who was her husband’s cor- 
respondent, and what it all was about. Slowly 
unfolding the letter, she real : 

Dear Hal.— Some time ago I wrote to you giving 
you a piece of advice. Now, I am taking the great 
liberty of writing to you again about what, to you, is 


— 97 — 


A Fool's Paradise . 


a very important matter. Have you succeeded in 
securing a divorce from your first wife? If you have 
not, you had better, as she has remarried and the new 
husband swears vengeance against you. Now, Hal., I 
do not want you to think I am interfering, but I tell 
you for your own good — get the divorce and wife num- 
ber two will never be any the wiser. 

Your friend, 

Joshua. 

Ruth stood like one rooted to the spot she had 
received such a shock — she was utterly crushed — 
she read the letter over again before she could 
grasp the full meaning of it. So she was not a 
legal wife and this was an end to her dream of a 
happy, long life with the man she had called hus- 
band. She gave way to a fit of weeping that left 
her exhausted, then she remembered he would be 
home in the morning, so she re-sealed the letter 
and determined to hand it to him when he came 
home. Morning dawned and the sun rose in all 
of its splendor. The air blew soft from the 
South, and was fragrant with the scent of many 
flowers. Hal. came in with his usual jaunty 
happy air, tossed the baby up and down, caught 
Ruth and gave her a hearty kiss and was alto- 
gether the happiest man alive. 


— 98 — 


A Fool’s Paradise. 


Ruth served breakfast, and after they had fin- 
ished eating, she handed him the letter and sat 
where she could watch him while he read it. At 
first he frowned — then as he finished he gave a 
contemptuous little laugh. Ruth said: “Hal., 
does your letter bring you good news?” 

“No, Ruthie; ’tis a begging letter from an 
old friend who wants a loan” and then tore it up 
and threw it in the fire. 

Ruth was if stricken dumb and looked pale 
and troubled. Hal. was home all that morning 
and at two o’clock they sent for him to take a 
special train. After he left the house Ruth pack- 
ed her trunk and then sat down and wrote the 
following letter: 

Hal. — I am going home to father and mother and 
the old home in the valley. It will be no use for you 
to come after me, for you have no legal claim on me. 
I read the letter that I gave you today, then re-sealed 
it. I know now that I have been living in a “fool’s 
paradise,” and have never been your wife. I will 
never forgive you. Ruth Selden. 

Ruth left on the evening train with her baby 
for her home. Her father was so surprised when 
she walked in with her little girl on her arm, and 
when she told him of the perfidy of the man that 
she had thought was her husband, her father want. 


LOfC. 


— 99 — 


A Fool's Paradise. 


ed to kill him. She pleaded with him not to 
make any scandal at all, but to leave him to his 
own miserable thoughts. However the next 
morning the Squire went to the village only to 
find that Hal. Retcar had left during the night 
for parts unknown. 

SjC 

Ruth was again the idolized daughter of lov- 
ing parents, and her baby thrived for awhile, but 
one morning the whole house was in a commo- 
tion. Ruth’s little one was dying of cholera in- 
fantum, and before night Ruth was childless. 
She mourned for her little girl until they thought 
she would lose her reason. One day Mrs. Sel- 
den said: “Ruthie, I wish you would take 
charge of the dairy. I feel that I am getting 
too old to do justice to work.” In reality she 
wanted to keep Ruth busily employed so that her 
mind would be relieved in a measure of her 
tiouble, for work is the best panacea for a mind 
diseased. 

In time Ruth became her old bright self, only 
she was very quiet, and when she had been home 
several years, she became the wife of a farmer 
in the neighborhood ; one who had loved her from 
childhood. 


— 100 — 


A Fool's Paradise. 


Ruth is a very happy woman. She is respect- 
ed and loved by all that know her and has an in- 
dulgent husband, but the experience she had 
when she was only a girl, has left its impression 
on her memory and even time — that great healer 
— can never efface it. As for Hal. Retcar he 
was wise enough to disappear from the valley 
forever, and he has never been heard of. He 
knew that he had broken one of God’s command- 
ments and had sinned against all the laws of good 
society, but Ruth has risen “out of the depths” 
and, in a measure, is a very happy woman, al- 
though at one time she lived in a “Fool’s Para- 
dise.” 


— 101 — 



s 







A JVoodland Heroine. 


“Pleasant it was when woods were green, 
And winds were soft and low.” 


— Longfellow. 


















































































































































A iJtoaManft Heroine. 


“How sweet, how passing sweet is solitude! 

But grant me still a friend in my retreat, 

Whom I may whisper, solitude is sweet. ” 

— William Cowper. 

_^£HE train had stopped suddenly in the heart 
of a shadowy woodland, and a frail little wo- 
man and a tiny girl, gathered up their numerous 
packages, for they had arrived at their destina- 
tion. 

A fine looking, muscular man met them, and 
the passengers who were looking out of the win- 
dows, understood that he was the husband and 
father of the pair. The way in which the child 
clung to her father brought tears to the eyes of 
some of the tender hearted passengers. ’Twas 
indeed a joyful meeting. 

It was a lovely sylvan scene; a dense wood- 
land and winding silently, 

“ Through the meadows bright and free” 

was the Tennessee River. A peaceful scene — 
one in still life — for there was no other living 
creature in sight save the srangers. 


■ 105 — 


A Woodland Heroine. 


All the beauties of nature were here, 

* 1 The flowers, the leaves, the river on its way 
Blue skies and silver clouds, and gentle winds. ” 
Mr. Lynn was one of a party of civil engi- 
neers who were surveying the right of way for a 
branch railroad, and they were camped on a hill- 
side near the river. The Lynns’ home was in a 
distant city and Mrs. Lynn and daughter, Alma, 
had joined Mr. Lynn for the summer months. 

He soon explained to his wife, that he had 
engaged board for them at an old farm house 
not very far away. 'Til be with you at night 
and every noon, but as the company boards us, 
will still take my meals with the boys,” he added. 
All the time he was talking, they were leisurely 
walking toward the house, while two burly Ne- 
groes carried their luggage. 

Twilight was deepening o’er the hills and a 
bluish haze hung low over the river, and one felt 
“The silent majesty of these deep woods. M 

Mrs. Lynn was disappointed at the first 
glimpse of the house. It was an old-fashioned 
Southern country house — a relic of Ante-Bellum 
days — consisting of six rooms, with broad hall 
through the center, wide open at either end. 
Across the yard apiece stood the kitchen and 


— 4 ( 36 — 


A Woodland Heroine. 


smokehouse, and the servants’ quarters were al- 
most uninhabitable. The old house was weather 
beaten and shabby, and was surrounded by im- 
mense shade trees that hid it from the road. The 
plantation (of over one hundred acres) was plant- 
ed mostly in cotton and corn. The stock law was 
strictly enforced and the entire plantation was un- 
fenced and was a magnificent sight. While the 
pastures were enclosed with rail fences. It had 
been the property of the Roode family for over a 
century and had descended from one generation 
to another, until it was now the property of Rob- 
ert Roode, the last living member of the family. 
He was a bachelor, and a perfect type of the suc- 
cessful Southern farmer. He rented the old 
house out to a family and received his board and 
lodging in payment of the rent. 

It was his first year with these people ; before 
he had kept house alone, but he imagined that a 
woman’s hand would bring order out of chaos, 
and in a measure restore the old home to its for- 
mer comfort. 

The family consisted of Major Boyd, wife 
and daughter, Mattie. Now, where the Major 
received his title from had never been definitely 
known, but in the South titles are plentiful, and 


— 107 — 


A Woodland Heroine. 


it has been said that in some parts of the South 
almost everyone you may meet has some kind of 
a title, either military or professional ; in fact it is 
the same with relationships. In some of our 
Southern villages you will find nearly everyone 
in some indirect way, related to the other. They 
live their lives in the one village, and intermarry 
in such a way that as the years glide by they all 
become “kin.” 

The Major was a typical Southern cracker. 
His occupation was that of a blacksmith and his 
shop was located at the cross-roads. In his youth 
he had been a very intemperate man. Later in 
life he reformed and was very quiet but quaint 
and pompous in manner. His wife was a sweet- 
faced, patient looking old lady, and his only 
daughter, Mattie, was a true child of nature, and 
now that I have described the residents of the old 
house, let us return to the strangers. 

When our little band of strangers arrived at 
the house the supper table was already laid in the 
hall ; for that was the dining room. One very 
dim light burned on the center of the table. The 
family met them at the door and made them wel- 
come in their own peculiar fashion. 

Entering the house it seemed very poorly fur- 


— 108 — 


A Woodland Heroine. 


nished, and everything was so different to the 
orderly house she had left, that Mrs. Lynn was 
sadly disappointed. Why is it that we always im- 
agine things different to what they really are? 
The people, too, seemed uncongenial to her. She 
felt a stranger in a strange land. Supper was 
served and gave the new-comers more food for 
reflection, for ’twas primitive in the extreme. 
The old Major asked a lengthy blessing in a very 
impressive manner. 

After supper Mrs. Lynn excused herself and 
retired to her room, accompanied by her husband 
and little Alma. The little girl had a merry 
romp with her father and she had so much to tell 
him, for he had been away from home several 
months. After awhile though, tired nature as- 
serted itself, and she began to nod, and then Mrs. 
Lynn prepared her for bed and to see a mother as 
she hears the prayers of her innocent child lisped 
at her knee, and those pure earnest eyes gazing 
into hers, seemed dearer to the father than any 
other time of her life. For in that brief time 
soul meets soul. 

Mrs. Lynn, looking very grave, said to her 
husband : “My dear, I am awfully sorry I per- 
suaded you to let us come, if this is the best board- 


— 109 — 


A Woodland Heroine. 


ing house we can get. I am afraid I cannot get 
accustomed to this primitive way of living. I 
never dreamed there was such utter ignorance in 
the world.” 

“Well, dear wife, I wanted to secure board 
for you in town, which is about five miles dis- 
tant, but you objected; this is the best I can do 
for you. At least there is plenty of food for 
thought here and solitude.” 

“I know I am very ungrateful, and as long 
as I can see you every day, why, I will be satis- 
fied ; as for solitude, I ‘Have ever loved the calm 
and quiet shade.’ ” 

Mr. Lynn’s face brightened, and he added, 
“I am certain the air here will be beneficial for 
you and Alma,” and he cast an adoring glance at 
the innocent face that was already in the land of 
nod “at any rate, my dear, you will have an op- 
portunity of seeing nature unadorned.” 

Mrs. Lynn was awakened in the morning by 
the joyous singing of a Cardinal bird in a tree 
outside of her window. She lay for awhile en- 
joying the exquisite melody, and then getting up 
made a hasty toilet and went out on the gallery 
to see how her new surroundings looked in the 
bright sunshine that was flooding the world around 


— 110 — 


A Woodland Heroine . 


her. Everything looked green and fresh and 
every tree and shrub glistened with dew drops. 

With the morning she had recovered her usual 
good spirits, and she determined to make the best 
of everything. She had supplied herself with sev- 
eral of the latest books, plenty of fancy work, and 
had also brought Alma’s school books and she 
intended to spend part of every morning teaching 
her. After taking in all the beauties of the early 
morn, Mrs. Lynn went into the house and found 
all the family including Mr. Roode, at breakfast. 
He proved to be an intelligent, well-read man 
and was a subscriber to several magazines. 

Mr. Lynn was the only one of the civil engi- 
neers that was married and they were all a jolly 
set of young men, intelligent and well-bred. 

Mrs. Lynn was not very long in this neck of 
the woods when she saw that one of the young en- 
gineers was in love with Mattie. The poor girl 
was one of the neglected class that so much has 
been written of. She was very illiterate and 
seemed to know no difference between right and 
wrong, but Dick Dobbs thought her perfection, 
and the “one woman in the world” for him. 

One day the ladies were talking and the con- 
versation turned on the embryo love affair in 


— 111 — 


A Woodland Heroine. 


their midst. Mattie seemed very much teased 
and Mrs. Lynn, thinking that she would give the 
girl some good advice, remarked : “Well, Mattie, 
I think you would be an extremely lucky girl to 
get such a good young man for a husband. He 
makes a fine salary and is temperate and very 
much in love with you.” 

“Well, I do n’t think so,” answered Mattie, 
“I ain’t struck on him ; I ain’t in no hurry to mar- 
ry. I have a good ’nough time. One thing, he 
ain’t got Mr. Lynn’s eyes.” 

Mrs. Lynn looked at her in perfect amaze- 
ment and then recovering herself, she said : “Do 
you know that you are speaking of my husband, 
and it is not right.” 

“Oh, you are jealous now,” said the silly girl. 
Mrs. Lynn looked at her pityingly, and said, “my 
poor child, I could not be jealous of you for my 
husband loves me too sincerely for me to doubt 
him. If you really understood the moral law or 
knew the difference between right and wrong, 
you would never speak in that way of a married 
man.” 

Mattie looked very serious, and walked out 
of the room, while Mrs. Boyde still seemed in a 


— 112 — 


A Woodland Heroine. 


trance, so dumbfounded was she by Mattie’s be- 
havior. 

* * 5js * * 

The summer passed swiftly and Dick Dobbs 
exerted himself, and there were picnics and ex- 
cursions galore. Through his love for Mattie they 
all had a bright and happy summer. Occasional- 
ly Mattie would sulk and cry, but he had so much 
patience with her and, strange to say, he never 
seemed to notice her infatuation for Mr. Lynn, 
although it was very apparent to everyone else. 
The only incident that happened to mar an other- 
wise pleasant summer was the sudden illness of 
little Alma one day, and ’twas then that Mattie 
the neglected, illiterate girl, in a manner became a 
heroine, and won the everlasting gratitude of 
Alma’s parents. The child was taken suddenly 
ill with congestion and the nearest physician was 
five miles distant. They telephoned him but in 
meantime Alma would have died but for Mattie’s 
efforts, and it seemed as if she was an instrument 
in the hands of an all-wise Providence, for she 
seemed to know just what to do and how to do it. 

Mrs. Lynn was prostrated, wringing her 
hands and crying that her child was dying, but 
Mattie bathed and rubbed her with mustard, gave 


■ 113 — 


A Woodland Heroine. 


her an emetic, and brought on reaction and cir- 
culation before the doctor arrived. She loved the 
child and all the time she was working with her 
the tears were streaming down her face. The 
doctor said the congestion was caused by im- 
proper food, and but for Mattie’s prompt action 
Alma would have died. The fare had been of 
the plainest — plenty of vegetables and milk — but 
when not accustomed to this kind of a diet, one 
soon gets tirel of it. ’Twas what these people 
had been accustomed to all of their lives and they 
could not understand anyone wanting anything 
more. 

After Alma’s illness Mrs. Lynn concluded to 
return home and not wait for her husband to fin- 
ish his work. 

In the early autumn when the woods were 
aglow with brilliant color, Mattie became the wife 
of Dick Dobbs, but her married life was of short 
duration, for she only lived one year, and it is a 
matter of conjecture by those who knew her — did 
she ever forget Mr. Lynn’s eyes ? 

With different environments what a noble 
woman she would have made, for she was tender 
hearted to a fault, and with a good husband to 
guide her, would have become more womanly and 


— 114 — 


A Woodland Heroine. 


enlightened. A child of nature, with all a wo- 
man's tenderest feelings. 

How many there are like Mattie, in the back- 
woods of our dear land, that merely drag through 
life like “dumb driven cattle,” with no ambition 
to rise out of the slough of ignorance that threat- 
ens to engulf them. Think of the mountain folk 
who, while surrounded on all sides by God’s 
mighty power, are yet, in many cases, too indigent 
and ignorant to feel any of the good that lies at 
their door. 


— 115 - 




MEMORIES. 



X 


<A Jfllmrifoa Outing. 


Blue skies, sunshine, and flowers everywhere. 


< Jj|T OR a thoroughly enjoyable outing, give me 
^ beautiful Florida — the land of flowers. 

One of the happiest fortnights I have ever 
spent anywhere was at Pensacola, Fla., in the 
month of May, several years ago. 

We were a merry house party, and our host 
and hostess were old residents, and knew all the 
points of interest in the surrounding country. 

We were taken for long drives, fishing excur- 
sions, and all kinds of out-door recreation. Life 
was indeed very pleasant those balmy spring days. 
A real dolce far niente. 

I can sit now and close my eyes, and feel all 
the joy of the swift drives, over the smooth 
roads, and through the pine barrens, where the 
balmy south winds blow, and the fragrance of 
many flowers make one feel as if they are indeed 
in Elysium. 

Every afernoon we went a different route. 
On day to the world-famous Navy Yard, and en- 


— 119 — 


A Florida Outing. 


joyed it very much. It was of course, as every- 
one knows, at one time the principal one in the 
United States. 

Another day at Fort Barrancas, a celebrated 
military post. An afternoon at lovely Escambia 
Bay, a smooth sheet of water, like a sea of glass, 
not a ripple to mar its surface; nestling amid the 
everlasting hills. 

Then one never-to-be-forgotten day we board- 
ed a steam launch and went on a picnic to Santa 
Rosa Island, across the bay from Pensacola, 
(which has been called the Naples of America) 
It is a magnificent body of water, as Byron says: 

“Deeply, darkly, beautifully blue.” 

Santa Rosa Island, at this point, is about three 
hundred feet wide, and sixty miles long. A huge 
sand bar, dividing the Bay of Pensacola from the 
Gulf of Mexico. 

’Tis here that one of the United States Life 
Saving Stations is located and we had the privi- 
lege of using the building. Arriving there we 
proceeded to don bathing suits and take a dip in 
the delicious surf, with the white-capped waves 
tossing us to and fro. 

The beauty of the scene was entrancing. The 
blue waters of the Gulf, the white sandy beach, 


— 120 — 


A Florida Outing. 


and the white-capped waves tossing restlessly on 
the shore, that was strewn with innumerable sea 
shells. 

It took us some time to come back to terra- 
drma and to realize that we were mortal and very 
hungry. We ate lunch, and let me say I never 
enjoyed one more than this rustic luncheon on the 
beach of the Gulf of Mexico. 

On our homeward way the moon was beaming, 
full and strong, and it was a sight that will al- 
ways be remembered for its sublime beauty, 
which is unsurpassed anywhere. The silvery 
moonlight gleaming on the blue waters of the bay 
made one feel like it was a land of enchantment, 
or a scene from the “Arabian Nights,” and it has 
to be seen to be appreciated, for its wonderful 
beauty is indescribable. 

At all events we will always remember sailing 
“O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea 

Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free . ' 1 

To me it is like a beautiful dream — one never 
to be forgotten, for nothing can surpass the myst- 
ical charm of the historic Bay of Pensacola by 
moonlight. 


__ 121 — 


JUission jHcmnrics 


WAS one of those perfect days in June 
^ when all nature is at its best, that we started 
on our memorable excursion to the famous mis- 
sions near “La Belle” San Antonio. 

As everyone knows that has ever been to San 
Antonio, the one thing that must not be forgotten 
or neglected is a visit to the historic missions, 
and so, after seeing all the beautiful parks, and 
all points of interest, we felt that our visit would 
not be complete without this outing. 

We were a happy party — there were five young 
girls and the same number of young men, and two 
married ladies for chaperones. Two of the young 
men were joint owners of an army ambulance 
that had formerly been the property of the U. S. 
Government. Its capacity seemed immeasurable, 
for it held twelve people comfortably and several 
hampers of provisions packed under the seats. 

They hired two horses from a near-by livery 
stable, and “thereby hangs a tale.” We were all 
ready to start by eight o’clock Sunday morning. 
There had been no little discussion about going 
— 122 — 


Mission Memories. 


on a Sunday excursion, but as that was the only 
day on which the young men could leave their 
business, and as our going depended on them, we 
comforted ourselves with the thought that we 
were going to spend the day among Churches 
even if they were ruins. 

We started off at last, the horses trotting 
along at a lively pace which they kept up until we 
were about one mile from town, and as we forded 
the San Antonio River at one of its most shallow 
points, one of the horses balked and no amount of 
whipping or persuasion of any kind could move 
him, and as we were near the bank, all climbed 
out over the wheels, and patiently waited by the 
roadside while the young men, by pushing and 
pulling, at last succeeded in getting the stubborn 
horse to move. We were not long in reaching 
the first mission, “Concepcion de la Acuna,” 
which was built in 1731. It is just two miles 
from Main Plaza, and the custodian is a jolly old 
German, who speaks a little Spanish, a little Ger- 
man, and some English. 

He conversed very interestingly, told wonder- 
ful stories of several prima donnas who had visit- 
ed the mission and sang in the chapel. It has a 
fine arched ceiling and the altar represents the 


— 123 — 


Mission Memories. 


Grotto of Lourdes, but it is quite modern — being 
a late addition (and very similar to one in St. 
Louis Cathedral in New Orleans) and adds very 
much to the old Mission. The custodian had a 
part of the old historic pile furnished to live in, 
and yet another part for his conservatory, which 
was filled with rare plants and in one corner he 
had his bath tub — quite a romantic bath house. 
After viewing these ancient ruins we had our pic- 
tures taken in a group (of course the old custo- 
dian was one of the group), and then we climbed 
into our Ambulance and the start was made for 
the second mssion. 

Our horse balked several times but we would 
use moral “suasion” at first, then force before he 
would budge. All would get in as quickly as pos- 
sible and off we would go at a rapid pace. The 
second mission, “San Jose,” is four miles from 
Main Plaza and was built in 1720 and is noted for 
its magnificent carved window and doorway. 
The statuary at one time had been beautiful, won- 
derful to look at, but vanlals had destroyed and 
decapitated the different Saints and otherwise 
desecrated one of God’s temples. We did not 
stay very long at this mission as the custodan was 
a Mexican woman who understood very little 
— 124 — 


Mission Memories. 


English. The “Photographer” of the party 
snapped some more kodak views, and again we 
started, this time for the third mission, “San 
Juan,” six miles south of Main Plaza, built 1731. 
which we soon reached, only to find nothing re- 
maining but part of the wall and a small adobe 
building, in which a Mexican family were living. 
As our long drive through the fresh, bracing air 
had given us all good appetites, we concluded to 
have our dinner in a grove of trees near by, and 
we arranged everything to be comfortable. 

Our dinner was a fine one, and we did it full 
justice. One of the young men lighted a “Gypsy 
camp-fire” and made coffee and cooked a roast 
of meat that was delicious. Texans all know how 
to enjoy camp life, and are all fairly good cooks. 

After dinner we all wandered down to the 
river, through the woods, and how perfectly beau- 
tiful those Texas woods are, with the Mesquite, 
Huisatchie trees and the lush grass — that peculiar 
green that is seen only there, combined with wild 
flowers and so many different kinds of cacti. We 
concluded not to go to the fourth mission “Es- 
pada,” as what we had seen sufficed for one day. 
When we were thoroughly rested and refreshed, 
we started on the homeward drive. About seven 


— 125 — 


Mission Memories. 


o’clock in the evening, we camped on the bank of 
the San Antonio River and had supper. ’Twas 
a beautiful spot, a grove of large forest trees, 
festooned by grape vines that formed natural 
swings, and underfoot grass as soft as velvet, and 
of that peculiar green. Here again the “Pho- 
tographer” took some of those “classic” groups 
that are seen only on a jaunt of this kind. 

Again we started for home, and after much 
balking, on the part of the horse, reached there 
at nine o’clock, and it was just dark, as everyone 
who has been in Texas knows how long twilight 
lasts. 

I shall never forget (and I am quite sure the 
rest of the party will not) our trip to the “Mis- 
sions” — those historic piles of masonry and art, 
showing that even from the earliest ages, man has 
been a painstaking, conscientious worker for the 
glory of God, for these ancient ruins seem to me 
to be veritable sermons in stone. 

Standing before these historic ruins we won- 
der how it could have been possible in those prim- 
itive days to convey all the material for their 
construction, and when we gazed on the fine mu- 
ral decorations of San Jose, we again wonder 
how it was possible (with the rudest implements) 


— 126 — 


Mission Memories. 


to do such magnificent carving and sculpture ; and 
so the trip to the missions (despite the balky 
horse) will ever remain one of the brightest mem- 
ories that we ha^e of San Antonio, for from the 
start on that clear, balmy June morning until the 
finish, when we drove through the fragrant woods 
in that wonderful twilight, it was all a dream of 
delight, and we felt that: 

“Poetic fields encompassed me around, 

And still I seemed to tread on classic ground.” 


— 127 


%\}c Rattle ai JEotiicrs 


“April cometh like a winsome maiden, 
A shy sweet harbinger of spring." 


Iff WAS April and o’er the prairies the soft 
south wind blew fresh and pure. One felt 
every breath meant a new lease on life. San An- 
tonio was in holiday dress, for it was the season 
of the year for their great annual festival, and 
blue skies, balmy winds, sunshine and flowers 
everywhere made one think they were in Italy, or 
some land of enchantment instead of the Lone 
Star State. 


By day or night it was one constant scene of 
festivity. There was a mystic parade, with me- 
dieval characters, that was fine and as it passed 
through the streets, with their brilliant illumina- 
tions (and I never saw finer) there was a general 
feeling of good humor prevailing everywhere. 

At night the streets were thronged with all 
classes and nationalities, throwing confetti, the 
Mexican cowboy, with his picturesque costume, 
and the wealthy cattle baron. 


— 128 — 


The Battle of Flowers. 


There was a Venetian water festival at night 
and one felt in dreamland. The San Antonio 
River, which is so very picturesque, was spanned 
at regular intervals with arches of electric lights, 
in all colors and designs, and of course it was all 
reflected in the water below. Then lovely girls, 
with their cavaliers, in boats, decorated with Jap- 
anese lanterns, playing mandolins or guitars. 

One felt as if it were fairyland, and it was 
hard to believe that we were in rushing, bustling 
prosaic America. 

Then one bright day we all went out to Fort 
Sam Houston, where we witnessed a sham battle 
between the troops stationed there. ’Twas very 
exciting, and at times so realistic as to be start- 
ling, especially when the cannon boomed. What a 
lovely place it is, with its Quadrangle, Tower, 
Officers’ homes, barracks, and beautiful flowers — 
a town in itself — an ideal spot. 

As the best of everything is always left to the 
last, so it is with the famous battle of flowers. 
How can anyone do it justice? ’Tis all so bewil- 
dering. Immense floats passed decorated with 
flowers and a bevy of young girls grouped on 
each. 

Then private carriages, pheatons, surreys, bug- 


— 129 — 


The Battle of Flowers. 


gies, and even several great clumsy automobiles 
were decorated as handsomely as the more grace- 
ful equipages, as they passed in line, bands play- 
ing. Every flower that grew seemed to be used 
in the decoration. 

Led by the Queen in her chariot, they march- 
ed around Alamo Plaza several times then coun- 
ter marched, one half going in the opposite direc- 
tion to the other, when the battle began by the 
opposing parties “pelting” each other with fra- 
grant flowers. ’Twas indeel a “merry war,” a 
beautiful sight and the flowers were not more 
beautiful than the groups of lovely girls who par- 
ticipated in it. ’Twas a “dream of fair women” 
with their fresh young faces and beautiful cos- 
tumes. 

Thus ended the Spring Carnival of our love- 
liest Southwestern City, and will ever be a re- 
membrance of an enchanted land. 


— 130 — 


.Memories o! Mobile Pag, 


% WAS a glorious spring morning, and the 
Bay was like a sea of glass, so calm and 
quiet was it. Memory wandered back through 
the dim mists of the past, and once more I was 
a child, with all a child’s delight at wading in 
the water at low tide. 

I recalled a summer spent at a fishing hamlet 
“down the Bay.” The inhabitants were mostly 
fishermen anl their families. Orange groves were 
plentiful and a pretty Roman Catholic Chapel was 
there also. 

The great man of the hamlet owned a very 
fine old Colonial home. He was a retired sea 
captain, and also our host. His wife was a dear 
home-body. 

I can recall all the beauties of the woodlands 
and Fish River, that was said to be so deep that 
it was almost bottomless. 

One night there was a dreadful storm, and it 
seemed as if the waves of the Bay would engulf 
the tiny hamlet. The next morning the sun rose 
in all of its splendor, and there was no trace of 


— 131 — 


Memories of Mobile Bay. 


the dreadful storm, save the driftwood that had 
been cast up on the beach by the waves. 

In a little while there was a great hue and cry 
for the water seemed to have turned to burnished 
silver. ’Twas an immense school of shrimp, 
come drifting in at high tide. All the men and 
boys procured seine nets, and it was perfectly 
marvelous what quantities of shrimp they hauled 
in to the shore. 

They packed them in barrels, and shipped them 
by lugger to the city markets. 

For several days we were served wth shrimp 
in every possible way they could be served. 

Nowhere in the South is there such a magnifi- 
cent stretch of shell road and waterfront as that 
of the historic old shell road at Mobile, Ala., and 
how many beauty spots are to be seen along its 
romantic shores, great oaks festooned with moss, 
hoary with age, natural parks, all the luxuriance 
of Dame Nature at her best. 

Mobile has many claims to preeminence, but 
nothing so much as that magnificent Bay, and as 
I gaze on the beauty of scene, I think of dear ones 
who have passed across that unknown sea, and 
of one who loved Mobile and her Bay, until God 
called her for His own. Now, with a few last 


— 132 — 


Memories of Mobile Bay. 


thoughts on the grandeur of the Bay, I will close : 
SUNRISE ON MOBILE BAY. 

The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firma- 
ment slioweth His handiwork. — Psalm xix. 

I stood on the shore, where the restless waves beat, 

And watched the awakening of a glorious day. 

Gray dawn enveloped me, all nature was asleep, 

When afar on the eastern horizon, Aurora, Goddess of 
Morning, awoke. 

Bising from the sea, ’mid surging clouds of rose and 
cream, 

Her rosy fingers dripping gentle dew, tinting the sky 
Like the heart of a sea shell, 

Then spreading o’er the firmament, in rosy waves, 
Like a timid maiden’s blushes, 

Until at last the glorious sun burst forth, 

In radiant splendor, flooding the world with divine 
light. 

The sea was calm. 

The sapphire of the water, and the turquoise of the sky 
Meeting on the distant horizon, and blending with 
The rosy tints of morn, and over all the wide arch of 
heaven, 

Glorious with the beauty of the morning. 

Afar the woodlands were brightened, and on 


— 133 — 


Memories of Mobile Bay. 


The wings of the morning gentle gales went forth, 

To embrace the sun-kissed waves that beat 
With restless rythm on the shore. 

My soul was uplifted, and I felt 
How sublime was nature, and I felt like chanting an 
exultant 

Te Deum unto the Lord most high, who in His infinite 
wisdom 

Ruleth earth, sea and sky. 


— 134 — 


ITIje Jflmtdj (Quarter 


It’s many legends and quaint folk-lore 
Keep ever fresli within our hearts 
The golden days of yore. 


HAT memories are awakened, what ghosts 
of the past arise, as we stroll through the 
historic French quarter, with its narrow streets 
and alleys, and in some parts the “banquettes” 
glowing red in the sunlight from a plentiful sup- 
ply of red brick. 

Nowhere in America can there be found so 
much of the old world as in the dear old quarter, 
and all languages are spoken, for it has become 
thoroughly cosmopolitan. 

To go from the Garden District to the French 
Quarter, is like going into another world, and 
passing through Rue Chartres or Rue Royal, how 
many antique shops are to be seen, filled with 
dainty bric-a-brac ; all the wealth and beauty of 
the days when furniture was made and carved by 
hand only. Before the days of labor-saving ma- 
chines and cheap workmanship. 

Its tall, grim mansions with leaded glass in the 


— 135 — 


The French Quarter. 


dormer windows, and in many cases heavy iron 
bars, stand boldly on the “banquettes” guarding 
perhaps fine old court-yards that are bowers of 
beauty and fragrance. 

The old St. Louis Hotel ( in later years known 
as the Hotel Royal) with its old slave mart, where 
human beings were sold like cattle, is still stand- 
ing, a relic of former grandeur and barbarism 
combined. The Cabildo, a relic of Spanish do- 
minion, with its old-world architecture. Nowhere 
in America can be found so many beautiful de- 
signs of old-world architecture, as in the bid 
French Quarter. 

The St. Louis Cathedral, with its magnificent 
mural decorations, where the most famous men 
and women of ancient and modern times have 
worshipped. Famous Jackson Square, like an 
oasis in the desert, “a thing of beauty,” with its 
trim flower beds and walks, and famous eques- 
trian statue of Andrew Jackson, the hero of the 
Battle of New Orleans. 

Just a few steps and the mighty Mississippi, 
that treacherous stream, winds its way. 

In the old days French Market, with its fam- 
ous Bazaar (which is now extinct) where any- 
thing under the sun could be bought, and where 


— l?6r- 


The French Quarter. 


there were almost as many languages spoken as 
in the Tower of Babel. It is still an object of 
interest to strangers. 

The romantic French Quarter, where the 
grandees of old France and Spain held their “rev- 
eille.” The gay cavaliers and dark-eyed Creole 
beauties, made merry, always with a chaperone in 
attendance. 

Famous Esplanade Avenue, with its palatial 
homes and lovely gardens, and Bayou St. John, 
th^t sluggish stream with almost as many legends 
as the River Rhine. 

Then out Ursulines Avenue, that broad, shad- 
owy, old-fashioned “faubourg” of the French “re- 
gime.” One feels in another world, walking be- 
neath the spreading branches of its grand old 
oaks. How many quaint streets there are in the 
old Quarter: Music, Poet, Art, Elysian Fields, 
Mystery, Virtue, and one that has been immor- 
talized by the children’s friend, Eugene Field. 
i ‘Oh, days they are golden, and days they are fleet, 

With little folk living in Good-Children street. M 

Across the Bayou we come suddenly on that 
natural beauty spot, City Park, and we feel all the 
joy of living, in sweet communion with nature. 
’Tis a joy just to sit beneath the stately oaks of 


— 137 — 


The French Quarter. 


this famous duelling ground of the old “regime/’ 
Dame Nature has indeed been lavish with her 
flowers, lakes, spanned by artistic stone bridges, 
graveled walks where we may wander for hours, 
enjoying the balmy breezes. 

If these old oaks could speak as did Tenny- 
son’s “talking oak,” what romances they could di- 
vulge. How many affairs of honor have been 
settled beneath their quiet shades. Festooned 
with moss, hoary with age, they stand living 
“souvenirs” of a day that is no more — gone never 
to return — for duelling would be utterly un- 
thought of in our prosaic day and age. 

Not but what the descendants of the sires of 
“old Creole Days” have just as much honor as 
their forefathers, but they are cooler and more 
deliberate, and settle their difficulties in a quieter 
way. 

Another beauty spot is historic St. Roch’s 
Chapel and Cemetery, where young and old make 
pilgrimages, to make “novenas,” and where many 
claim to have been cured of divers ills. 

On Good Friday it is a mecca for lovers, and 
many a girl walks miles to make her wish, for it 
is the proper thing to walk, and on the route to 


— 138 — 


The French Quarter. 


visit nine churches, and offer prayers to make the 
charm complete. 

Orleanians are justly proud of their French 
Quarter for it is unique, and nowhere else in 
America can anything like it be found, for quaint- 
ness, and old-world characteristics. 

But the march of progress is destroying so 
many old landmarks that it seems almost sacri- 
ligeous and yet ’tis in life that age must give way 
for youth — the old for the new. 

“It seems a bit of the old World 

Has drifted to this soft Southern clime, 

A bit of Italy, France and Spain, 

And over all God’s bright sunshine.’ 


— 139 — 











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